


A Multitude of Instances

by great_turkey_calamity



Series: ND Henry [1]
Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Confusion, David is chilling once again, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Miscommunication, Neurodivergent Henry, food as a love language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_turkey_calamity/pseuds/great_turkey_calamity
Summary: Henry’s taken notice of one of Alex’s verbal patterns.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Series: ND Henry [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021431
Comments: 22
Kudos: 188





	A Multitude of Instances

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been dying to write neurodivergent Henry and a marriage proposal, so here y’all go!!

Alex has this silly little habit that Henry’s come to notice.   
  


He first realized it was a thing on an especially dreary Tuesday evening. Classes at NYU had been kicking Alex’s ass, and after a long, skin-singeing shower, he had retreated to bed to sleep off his stress. 

It was then that Henry decided that he would do something nice for him. He had never grown up cooking, and he and Alex have fallen into a very comfortable rhythm; Alex cooks, Henry cleans the kitchen, they eat together in the living room and weed their way through the dramas section on Netflix; it’s a comfortable, nightly formula, one that works for both of them. He’s being expecting variance for quite a while now— such things are bound to happen. He’s independent of the crown, there’s nobody there to plan his schedule day in and day out anymore. He has to plan for human error— for nights like these.

So, here he is now, learning how to made enmoladas via some low-quality YouTube video where instructions are being given far too fast for him to keep up with. He’s burned his fingers too many times to count, and has nearly turned his corn tortillas into tostadas. David has gotten a generous amount of chicken that’s fallen on the floor, and is now howling along with the thunder roaring outside their living room windows; he hadn’t even realized it was raining.

He’s just finished plating their food when Alex comes downstairs. He still looks exhausted; messy, flattened-down hair and askew glasses, jumper and sweatpants swallowing him whole as he shuffles into the kitchen on socked feet.

“Hello, beautiful.” Henry greets from the sink, washing his hands again— for the third time— to get the clinging feeling of vegetable oil and mole sauce off of his hands. His fingertips are angry and red as he soothes them beneath the freezing, gentle water of the faucet; it doesn’t do much, but it’s temporary relief.

“Hi babe,” Alex croaks, soft sleepiness and a smile creeping into his voice. “What on earth have you been up to?”  
  


“Oh, you know,” Henry starts, shutting off the faucet and reaching for a hand towel to dry off with. “Just wrecking the kitchen.”

Alex snorts. Henry doesn’t see what’s so funny— he really _has_ made quite a mess of the place. 

“You made this?” Alex asks him. Henry looks at him; he seems half-surprised, half-proud; Henry remembers the time he’d started a little fire trying to make scrambled eggs for breakfast. That had been quite the travesty. 

“I did,” He acknowledges. He wants to wash his hands again, to turn away from this conversation, but he doesn’t. “Don’t know how good it is, but I made it.”  
  


Alex tries it, and lets out a guttural noise of approval, leaning back against the counter.

“Marry me,” He says to Henry, and it makes Henry chuckle.  
  


“ _That_ good, then?”

“Where did you get this recipe from?”

“Some weird video somewhere down the YouTube rabbit hole.”

They move their food and conversation to the living room, put on _Dallas Buyers Club_ , and huddle up together, David laying at their feet in front of the coffee table. 

  
_Marry me._

That phrase has become a fairly regular thing for Alex to say to him. Henry’s been keeping track of things that make him say it.

Making sure his coffee cup stays full— also making sure he drinks a decent amount of water.

Giving him neck and shoulder massages while he sits at his computer in their office, already knowing where his worst knots are.

Reminding him to grab his coat before leaving the house; if he’s running especially late, he’ll tie his necktie for him. 

He also cooks more often. It’s a dodgy endeavor, and only works out favorably about fifty percent of the time, but Alex is always appreciative. 

It’s a sweet, affectionate running joke between the two of them. Alex will say it, and then Henry laughs as he goes off into a tangent, explaining how they’ll run off to some small, insignificant town and elope, escaping the fame and the wrath of the press— and Henry’s gran— for good. Henry always asks him on how he plans on doing that, and Alex always says, “true love always finds its way”. It’s idealistic, and it’s precious, and it makes him want to kiss Alexander until he forgets how to talk properly.   
  


They’ve decided to visit Henry’s family for the winter holidays this year. They’ve just spent the summer with Oscar and the rest of the family at the lake house Halloween with June, Nora, and Pez in Brooklyn, and Thanksgiving with Ellen and Leo; Ellen had brought up the turkeys— Alex didn’t think it was very amusing. It only seemed fair to spend Christmas and New Years in London as they sat together and planned out their schedules. Philip and Alex are trying to foster some kind of relationship, but he’s closer to Martha; she’s got her first baby on the way, and Alex has been fussing constantly over her. Bea and his mum miss them both, too, so it seemed like a great idea.

December 18th is a freezing cold day, yet Alexander absolutely insists on going on a walk through Hyde Park. They’ve bundled up in their warmest clothes; Henry looks silly compared to Alex, toughing it out in a wool-lined jacket whilst he’s wrapped himself up in a coat and scarf with insulating gloves. His teeth are chattering, and he rubs his hands together as they make their way along the snow-covered path. It’s always odd to him when they shut the park down just so his family can use it; he thinks he likes it much better when it’s chocked full of people. Despite people constantly accommodating for him, he enjoys things most when they’re in their most natural states.   
  


He’s been wringing his hands for about ten minutes when Alex finally makes a comment.

“Baby, you’re dressed like you’re ready to head down to Antarctica, are you really _that_ cold?” He asks. There’s something in his voice; not condescending, not mocking— teasing. Alex has been playful today.  
  


Henry nods, chuckling and letting out a visible puff of air that billows out in front of him. “I’m freezing my _arse_ off.”

Alex laughs, and slides his arm under and around one of Henry’s, linking them together. He spins Henry around, so that their both standing in the snow beneath the limbs of a massive tree.

“I’ve got to tell you something before we head back, if you don’t mind.” Alex says, grabbing Henry’s hands in his. He’s got his lips caught between his teeth. He’s nervous; Henry needs to know why— he needs to fix it.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, squeezing his hands gently. “You can talk to me, love.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Alex is quick to assure him, shaking his head and smiling. Henry feels perplexed. “Everything’s wonderful— perfect, even.” He explains, still looking hesitant. “I just—“ He sighs, looking up and making eye contact that’s uncomfortably intimate for a walk in the park. “Will you marry me?”

  
Henry’s shoulders slacken, and he chuckles, feeling the tension and anxiety leave his body. He’d only read Alex’s expression wrong; nothing to fret about here. “ _That’s_ what you stopped me for?” He giggles. “In the freezing cold?”

A range of emotions flash over Alex’s face; uneasiness, shock, and horror, to name a few. Mostly shock. “Uhm, _yeah?_ ” He replies, laughing awkwardly. “I, uh, wanted it to be a quiet moment away from everyone else.” He explains, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes slightly wider than usual. “Thought you might handle it better in a more private setting.”

Something’s definitely wrong here, but Henry can’t put his finger on it.

“What are you on about?” He asks. “You ask me to marry you all the time— you’ve done it in front of everyone we know. It happens once a week at this point. What makes it different now?” He asks. A thought flashes through his head that he doesn’t like one bit. “Has Philip started up towards you again?”

Alex looks dumbfounded, then snaps back to life. “I— baby, no.“ He starts, obviously trying to process what Henry has said. It hits him, and he’s shaking his head, laughing. “We must not be seein’ eye-to-eye on this.”  
  


Henry’s still immensely confused. “I don’t think we are either, honestly.”  
  


“Okay,” Alex says, nodding. “Okay.” He repeats, grasping Henry’s hands and looking him in the eyes again. “I realize that I joke about marrying you fairly regularly. It’s been a running gag in our relationship over several months.” He continues. “I’m not joking this time.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Henry gasps. He hadn’t been expecting that. “I— “ He stumbles over his words, trying to pull himself together. “How long have you been trying to tell me?”

Alex hums. “Long term? I’ve had the idea in my head for about three or four months.” He admits, and Henry feels his pulse quicken. “While we’ve been here? I’ve been planning for the last three days. I even asked your mother and Philip for their blessings.”

Henry finds himself choking on the icy air as it enters his lungs. “What did they say?”

“They both said yes,” Alex is quick to say. “Philip gave me a long-winded talk about my ‘ _position_ ’ as your husband, but he said yes.”

His brows furrow. “Why didn’t you just ask me first?” He asks, confused. He figures that the process would be a lot less painful if Alex had just asked him directly, and he tells him as such. 

Alexander laughs, his smile big and bold and every last bit American. It’s loud— the only type of loud that he can handle. Alex’s loudness. He’s grown accustomed to it over the past two years. “I know, it’s just how I was raised.” He explains. “In the South, you always ask the family for permission first. Sign of respect and all that,” He continues. 

Henry hums, taking a moment to process it all. They’re standing under a tree in Hyde Park, and Alex has just asked him to be his husband. It’s a bit overwhelming, if he’s honest. He’s going to say yes, of course— he _is_ madly in love with Alexander, after all— but he’s embarrassed with himself for not understanding the joke, and it’s cold outside, and he’s wondering why he’s having such a hard time grasping what an important moment in his life this is. 

He’s happy, but it’s a great big mess that he hasn’t got the energy for.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks, setting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” He continues, asking a second question; Henry has such a hard time with questions, especially about his emotions. Alex seems to remember this, and switches gears. “You are overwhelmed, yes or no?”

“Yes,” Henry breathes, his laugh reduced to some sort of stressed tittering sound. Overwhelmed feels like the understatement of the year. 

“You are overwhelmed in a bad way,” Alex continues, and Henry can see something that looks like guilt written all over his face. “Yes, or no?”

“No,” Henry takes a deep breath, and lets it out, flapping his hands whilst his head. Stimming in public is usually kept to a minimum— he’s been the subject of too many scathing articles to count— but he needs to get the nervous energy out somehow. “Feel like crying.” He explains, eyes burning.

“So you’re not overwhelmed in a bad way,” Alex repeats, putting all the pieces together. “But you feel like crying,” He continues. He looks as confused as Henry feels; it’s a lot to take in. “Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Henry replies. His eyes are still stinging, but he’s trying his best to hold it down. “You _did_ just ask me to marry you, just now.” He points out, and Alex immediately jolts, as if he’s just remembered this information himself.

“Do you _want_ to?” Alex asks, grabbing Henry’s hands in his own once more and squeezing them— gentle and firm; grounding. “Marry me?”

Henry’s nodding his head, knowing he’d never be able to get the words out fast enough. “Yes,” He breathes, and Alex lets out a sigh of relief. “Yes, absolutely.”

“In that case,” Alex starts, slipping his hand into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small, velvet-covered box; a ring. “Do you mind if I put this on you?”

Henry groans, laughing, head thunking against the trunk of the tree as he leans back against it. “You’re going to _end_ me,” He says, but he removes his gloves and sticks his hand out anyway. Is it possible to die from loving someone too much? He figures it must be. He watches as Alexander slides the thin silver band onto his finger; it’s got a good weight to it, not too little, but not too much either.

“Bea helped me pick it out,” Alex says, lifting the back of Henry’s hand to his lips and kissing it. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” Henry replies. Emotions keep bubbling up in little bursts, and his eyes are watering on and off. “I really do like it.”

Alex notices this when Henry feels his face start to warm up. “Oh c’mere, baby.” He coos, pulling Henry into his arms, hugging him tight. It’s nice— Alex’s arms are strong and gentle, sturdy and soft. “It’s okay, you can cry if you need to. I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“I know,” Henry replies; he _doesn’t_ cry, thankfully. He considers it a victory, not wanting to look like one of the female protagonists from one of June’s romantic dramas. “I love you, too.” He whispers. “So, so much.”

They pull away, and Alex pecks his lips; they’re warm and soft, a contrast from Henry’s cold, bitten, chapped ones. It’s lovely, heating him up from the inside out.

“Let’s head back inside,” Alexander proposes whenever he breaks away. “You’re frozen— you’ll catch a cold like this.”

“I _told_ you, I’m freezing my arse off out here.” Henry reminds him, and Alex hums, interweaving their fingers as they start on their way home.

“Maybe I should start listening to you more,” Alex acknowledges, and it makes Henry giggle.

“Maybe,” He replies. “It’s a bit of give and take on both ends.”

They drag their feet along the path, talking and laughing, rain starting to fall from the sky, every drop saying _I love you, I love you, I love you._

Alex falls flat on his face when he takes off running in the direction of the palace, and Henry laughs, helping him back up.

“Marry me?” Alex asks as they step into the grand foyer, soaked and chilled to the bone, and Henry chuckles, kissing the tip of his nose.

“I’m working on it, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @bi-disaster-fsotus


End file.
